The most bizarre travel experience ever (part 2)

You would think that would be the end of the chapter. Sorry, no. The men-in-nighties are not letting anyone through the gates claiming the other side is at capacity. They won’t accept e-tickets, everyone must have a paper boarding pass – more bullshit stories. Another game of ducking, weaving to get through passport control. Staying on my best behaviour, I make it through.

I am confronted with an unending mass of people. My priority, get something to eat. I buy a chicken shawarma – it could be 4-days old, don’t care. The woman asks if I would like it warmed up. Nope, no time. Need food. I buy a mars bar for later on – just in case.

The next few hours are spent watching the gate sign flick from Newcastle to Zagreb. There is a swarm of confused folk watching the screens. I chat to 3 Philippine women waiting for their flight to Poland. They’ve been sleeping – on this side of the terminal – for 3 days. We take turns hooning around in the Emirates courtesy buggy. New friends.

The gate changes to Zagreb. To Newcastle. To Zagreb. WTF. Each time the gate changes there is a surge of people. I stay with it. Thinking … wow, I hope no one has that covid-thingy. We’re getting pretty intimate here, no personal space. I’m usually one for hanging aside, letting things unfold naturally, but now – it’s game on.

At 1:11pm, Gate B2 opens to Newcastle. We push through, desperate to get away from the mania. We scan our boarding passes but instead of boarding, are corralled into a boarding lounge. We are now ‘trapped’. We can’t leave the lounge. There are toilets but nothing else – no food options, no information. We wait. And wait. Rumours start to circulate as to why they have put us here. No doubt it has removed a few people from the heaving mass in the terminal. It feels like they have ‘parked’ us – put us somewhere where we can’t exit/go anywhere. There is absolutely nothing to do but wait. We question the staff who checked us through. They have no answers. Waiting waiting.

4:15pm. We have now been in the holding pen for 3 hours. We take turns wandering over to the ground staff to get an update and relay it to our fellow passengers. A rumour goes round that we are waiting for a bus … we’re not sure if it’s true but we line up at the doors anyway – eager (desperate!)

Finally we are freed. People are literally skipping down the stairs and escalators. The kids are having a blast – running loose in the airport = big fun. I squeeze onto the first party-bus and off we go.

The takeoff was a momentous occasion – being freed from the chaos, the craziness, the downright unacceptable. It made me reflect on how we, ‘normal’ folk manage. We are at the whim of whoever is controlling the situation. It is humbling and scary. It felt like being incarcerated. Your choice, freedom taken away. You wanted to be out of that situation so so badly … but you couldn’t. You couldn’t just access an emergency exit and say, I’m out. It was awful.

Some comments I have since read online:

“16 hour unmanned queues that are more like mosh pits, the airport is understaffed. People passing out, fighting. No hotel stay as the airport is fully booked, food coupons don’t work. Slept on floor for 48 hours.”

“There was no organisation at all.”

“There is no food or water provided, and there is no one to guide or provide service from Emirates …”

“Thousands of people are stranded at Dubai International Airport for hours now with no food, no sitting arrangements, no help or support whatsoever, no food or assistance available for infants and children. It’s complete chaos, it’s completely an inhumane situation.”  

Parents, travelling with crying children, were exhausted, taking turns sleeping on the floor or standing in line”

“I know the weather is beyond anyone’s control, but timely information reduces irritation even if it is bad news. There was no information. A company like Emirates must plan for response in such situations.”

“The queue got so bad, so tightly packed, he was unable to breathe anymore.”

“People were pushing in front, getting really aggressive, there was no security.”

“Thousands are stranded … the airport was a sea of bodies on every surface overnight. There were people in chairs, couches, on the floor outside bathrooms, sleeping on cardboard. So many people with young children forced to sleep on the ground. The airport was packed last night, I don’t know how there wasn’t a stampede.”

I am going to provide an edited account of this to both the Australian embassy in Dubai and the media. I don’t think either have received the full story. Looking at the media reports, it seems the floods were reported but the scale of the fall-over over the next 2-3 days was not.

Yes, it was a random, extreme weather event however I did not expect to have to fend-for-myself in the UAE – one of the richest countries in the world – when the shit hit-the-fan – including nearly getting decked by some thug at the airport. No assistance, no security. There were moments I was terrified. I was a single, white woman travelling on her own – I did not have a male companion/husband. I was the lowest priority. Unheard, invisible. Of course the Full Bush Rat didn’t accept that. I fought. I asserted myself – respectfully (though my finger pointing and telling skinny white eastern-block-arse’s boyfriend/husband that he was behaving like a child and to go to the back of the queue may have been a little provocative …

According to Airports Council International, Dubai is the biggest airport in the world in terms of international passenger traffic. Despite its glitzy, opulent façade, it has proven it does not have the infrastructure to deal with an extreme weather event. We understand the floods meant thousands of people could not get to work – including flight crews, catering, baggage handlers, cleaners, counter-staff etc. What we needed was the airport to take control of the mass of displaced people. Effectively organise the (ever increasing) crowd. Provide information – even if it meant someone standing on a desk with a loud hailer. Instead, Emirates and airport staff simply …. disappeared. I have since read a report describing the days at Dubai International, after the floods, as “absolute carnage”. Sums it up perfectly.

Emirates say they have created a task force to help sort and deliver over 30,000 bags which were separated from passengers. At the time of posting this (nearly 4 weeks later), I am yet to see mine.

That said, I am warmed by the amazing, kind, interesting people out there in the world. Thankfully they are more numerous than the entitled dickheads. The lovely young German couple next to me on EK407; the English woman across the aisle with her 10-year old son; the waitress at Cactus Jacks; the shuttle-bus driver; the Philippine women I met in the terminal; the chap from Male going back to work in Amsterdam; the young lad returning to school in London; the men who 'shielded' me from the aggressive cock at the check-in counter. We shared stories, looked out for each other, even managed the occasional laugh. Those people got me through.

A shout out too to the EK407 captains, pilots and cabin crew. They were equally as frustrated but maintained their cool and handled the peculiar circumstances exceptionally. When we left the aircraft, the captains and pilots lined up at the door – said goodbye, thank you and sorry to every single passenger. That was class.